Wings
by brokenfate117
Summary: After the Exile, aligned to the Dark Side, has taken her revenge and escaped Malachor V yet again, what is to come of her and the crew? PostKotor2.


After Malachor V, I started throwing everything away. 

First it was just spare junk that I really should have gotten rid of before but either decided to keep it just in case or couldn't find someone to buy it. We landed on Nar Shaddaa and I sold everything I didn't need. When one buyer ran out of credits, I turned around and continued selling to the next. Before then, I hadn't really noticed what a disgusting state these people were in. They were overjoyed by my so-called generosity for selling everything so cheaply. But it wasn't that I was generous. It was that one credit for a medkit was better than just tossing it away, and cheaper prices allowed me to sell more of my crap than if I was selling it for what it was worth.

That, and I didn't care.

Blasters that I'd never fired, armour that still carried some dried remains of its previous owners, belts that had never carried anything, gloves whose interior could be broken glass for all I knew or cared, visors I'd never glanced through, shields that I'd only fired at but never activated- all passed from my possession to these people for a few credits that I didn't really need. Soon, all I had was what I was wearing, my lightsabers, and a single advanced medkit. As I sold the last vibroblade, I closed my eyes and felt around the area, somewhat curious of where the crew had gone to. I didn't even have to search for Atton- I knew he was in the cantina. Bao Dur was on the ship, still repairing away (with T3, of course), chatting amiably with HK and Mandalore. Visas was meditating, her flares of emotions softening. I almost became alarmed at Mical's missing presence, but I recalled what Atton had told me as we were heading here. And I had told Hanharr to do whatever he wished; I didn't need him anymore.

But in actuality, I didn't need any of them.

Sure, maybe the droids...T3 could repair the ship, and HK could be company. Although not a meatbag, he offered good conversation. But even without them, I could easily get by. Kreia was dead, Mical was dead, Hanharr was gone, Mandalore had told me that he'd be leaving soon. Maybe Atton would stay here, Visas would go somewhere (maybe to Dxun with Mandalore and take up occupation in Freedon Nadd's tomb- alive, of course), and Bao Dur would head back to Telos (he still liked to fix things, even if he wasn't quite as light-sided). Maybe then I would return to Korriban...As I drifted into thought, I sensed a familiar dark presence approaching; Atton was coming back from the cantina. Sober, surprisingly.

"Well, I don't know who put up the bounty, but some hunters should be heading our way," he mentioned. Then, smirking slightly, he remarked sarcastically, "I wonder what we could possibly have done to upset someone."

"We always seem to have a talent for attracting attention," I replied. "Let's go. Mandalore wants to head back to Dxun, and I don't see any more need for staying here."

Atton nodded, still smirking, and headed into the Hawk. I was slightly surprised that he was still coming; I had really thought he'd stay here. Maybe he felt I needed to be protected from the bounty hunters...or perhaps he just wanted some easy kills. But why would he need to keep a kill count now? Mical was dead, so I didn't think Atton felt the need to prove his superiority anymore...maybe he was competing with Bao-Dur, but I doubted it. He probably didn't bother to keep track of how many he'd killed.

I shook my head slightly- I was zoning out. I'd been doing that since Malachor V...Just drifting off into random thought, indifferent of my surroundings. The others hadn't noticed yet, and I didn't particularly care if they did. The worst that could happen would be questions, and I was used to that. Luckily, my zoning out hadn't occurred while someone was talking to me...not yet, at least. I headed into the Hawk slowly, my eyes sweeping over the dry bloodstains we hadn't bothered to clean up. I shuddered slightly, knelt, and started scraping it away. I didn't want to be reminded of how weak I had been. It was disgusting.

Once the flakes were loose, I brushed them away and straightened. There were still lingering memories, replaying in front of my eyes like aged holograms, but at least the physical remnants were gone. I watched the memory for a few moments before jerking away and walking further into the Hawk. Mandalore was leaning against one of the walls, telling Bao Dur (and HK) about some battle he had fought in. Bao Dur was listening passively, nodding occasionally, as he was fixing the workbench. I walked past without saying anything. The workbench was also a place from the memories of Malachor V that I didn't want to remember.

I reached the cockpit soon enough and tapped in the coordinates for Dxun, then sat in the copilot's seat. Atton was already fiddling with the controls and didn't appear to need any assistance, so I just leaned back and closed my eyes. I wonder...what should I do once I reached Korriban? It would depend heavily on who left me and who stayed (if anyone). I knew most of them were leaving. But Atton and Bao Dur...Atton hadn't stayed here, and no other place popped into my head as to where he would go. As for Bao Dur...well, it was relatively unlikely that he would go back to Telos. But I'd noticed his restlessness; he probably wouldn't stay. Maybe he'd do as he did after the first Malachor V and exile himself, so to speak.

Maybe I could begin to rebuild the Sith Academy on Korriban.

That could be amusing for a while- just to train any Force-sensitives that happened to notice my presence on the planet. I wasn't planning on building an army; there wasn't much point in that. If I wanted to start a war, I'd have done it already. I liked training others to see the Force as I did. Not nearly as much as I liked killing others, but that was another story altogether; that was an addiction that I enjoyed having. Training others was simple enjoyment- knowing that they would become strong fighters or thinkers, knowing that they would grow and learn and teach. Some of them may end up as failures, as cowards who only attacked those weaker than them due to some crazed lust for power, or as weaklings who could be 'saved' from the dark side by some random do-gooder. But there would also be the strong ones...those who made the effort worth it.

"Could you operate the turrets for a moment? Looks like we've already attracted some stupid bounty hunters," Atton said, his voice dragging me from my thoughts of apprentices. I nodded and left. There were just three small ships following and firing occasionally at us- hardly even worth my time. I shot them down with ease, but remained in the seat for a few moments longer. It was odd; the seat here was more comfortable than the one I'd been sitting in. You'd think that someone sitting at a gun turret firing at whatever came into range wouldn't be quite as preoccupied with the seat as a bored copilot would be. As I sat there, I realized just how much everything had weighed before. Sure, most of it I stuffed into various compartments on the ship, but now my pack was practically weightless. It was the exact feeling I'd wanted to get.

A nearly weightless burden...What did I have to do in order to drop it completely?


End file.
